


Out of Step

by Fallen_Angel_Meg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Color Guard Castiel, Drummer Dean, Enemies, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Marching Band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Angel_Meg/pseuds/Fallen_Angel_Meg
Summary: Dean and Castiel started off on the right foot, so it's no wonder they have such disdain for each other. Because in marching band, it's the left foot that's the correct foot to start with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fandom Writing Challenge [March 2017]  
> Theme: Sports + Leisure  
> Prompt: Marching Band
> 
> Thank you, as always, to [my precious bean](http://adoringjensen.tumblr.com) for beta-ing ♥

“Everyone reset back to set one. Come on, move with purpose! We haven’t got all day!” Crowley bellows into his megaphone from the top of the scaffolding tower.  
  
Jesus Christ.  
  
Every year, Dean hides that stupid thing but Crowley always seems to find it. Looks like he’ll just have to go for the batteries.  
  
“Dean, can you _please_ take one for the team and ask for a water break?” Jo pants beside him as they hustle back to set one.  
  
“Yeah, we’re dying here, Winchester,” Charlie agrees as she jogs up beside them.  
  
Dean sighs dramatically. “Why does it have to be me?”  
  
“Because Crowley has a soft spot for you,” Jo says with a smirk.  
  
He rolls his eyes. “That’s not true.”  
  
“Sorry brother, but it is,” Benny calls, already in position on his dot about five yards from them. Dean groans, scrubbing a hand down his face where droplets of sweat are beading on the surface.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Jo and Charlie share a conspiring smile before racing ahead to their dots. Dean slows down, hovering around the fifty yard line where The Tower is set up. It stands twelve feet tall, with Crowley barely adding any height on the highest platform. Chuck sits silently, as usual, on the lower platform which is just above head level. Maybe Dean can get away with asking Chuck instead.  
  
“Uh, hey Chuck? It’s been about two hours since our last water break. Think we can take five minutes after this run?”  
  
Chuck glances down at Dean, looking frantic at the question. God, after four years of being in this band, Dean still has no idea how this guy is even the director.  
  
“Winchester!”  
  
Fuck.  
  
Dean cranes his head back, hand cupping over his eyes to see Crowley through the harsh glare of the sun. “Yeah?”  
  
“I thought I said to get to set one.”  
  
“I know, but we need a water break. Unless you want a bunch of kids passing out on this field, we need at least ten minutes to sit and cool off.” Dean feels like he’s flirting with death by demanding instead of asking, but how else is he supposed to convince Crowley to give them a break?  
  
Crowley glares down at him and for once, the whole field is silent. Dean heard a few gasps at the way he spoke to their assistant director, but now everyone’s holding their breath.  
  
“Fine. We run this one more time you all get your precious water break,” Crowley spits out.  
  
Dean nods, hiding his smile until his back is turned. People whisper their gratitude as he passes them on his way to his dot, and it lifts him up a little. Even if it means putting his neck out there, he’ll do anything he can to help out his bandmates.  
  
They run the first five sets, and it’s far from being perfect, but it’s not a complete disaster. As soon as Crowley’s done lecturing them about terrible marching techniques and some forgetting their dots all together, everyone clears the practice field to fill the front sideline where all their water and belongings sit.  
  
Dean collapses next to Sam, who’s busy guzzling down water. “So Sammy, how’s day one of band camp?”  
  
Sam takes a few more gulps before answering him. “Hell. That Crowley guy is a jerk. Why did you put up with this all four years?”  
  
“Because believe it or not, it’s a lot of fun,” Charlie says as she flops down beside them, Jo, and Benny right behind her. Dean nods, pulling his water bottle from Charlie’s cooler and taking a big gulp.  
  
“The first couple o‘ days are always rough,” Benny offers empathetically.  
  
Sam looks down at his watch and groans. “It’s only eleven?”  
  
“Hey, only an hour until lunch!” Jo says excitedly, which everyone chimes in with. Dean laughs at his brother’s confused reaction. He remembers his first year of band camp. Being in the thick heat, thirsty and exhausted, an hour seems like eternity. But now that he’s gone through it three previous times, an hour is the homestretch.  
  
Sam gets to his feet. “I’m gonna go sit by Barry. See you at lunch?”  
  
Dean reaches up to ruffle his hair but Sam bats his hand away before he can, causing him to huff. “Yeah, bitch, see ya.”  
  
Sam grumbles out a ‘Jerk’ before walking a ways down the sideline.  
  
“Oh god – here they come,” Charlie singsongs. Dean doesn’t need to glance over to know who she’s talking about.  
  
Color guard.  
  
Dean’s always happy when the guard girls join the band. He’s kinda got a reputation with them. He turns his head to watch them make their way closer, but is pulled up short when he sees a new face.  
  
“Since when did we get a guard guy?” he wonders aloud, sitting up to get a better look. Not that color guard is strictly for girls, but it’s always a special sighting to see a guy in guard. Dean would’ve definitely known if a guy joined guard, especially if he looks as good as this one.  
  
“Must be the new guy. I think he’s brothers with the new drum major too,” Benny answers. That’s right, there was actually some drama around that. People thought it was unfair for this Gabriel guy to come in as a senior and get chosen for drum major, but he must be that good. There was talk he had a brother – half-brother? – but Dean never heard anything more about it.  
  
“Huh,” is all Dean can manage to say because holy fuck, the guy is seriously hot. His shorts are slung low around his hips, practically teasing Dean with the little bit of exposed tanned skin that his ratty looking T-shirt isn’t covering.  
  
“Dean, please don’t scare him on his first day,” Jo sighs.  
  
“What? I didn’t even do anything.”  
  
“Oh please, you’ve got that look,” Charlie crows. “Besides, you’ve basically run Kali’s patience nonexistent. She doesn’t want you anywhere near the guard.”  
  
Well, he can’t exactly deny that. Kali hates him for ‘causing distractions’ to her girls. No doubt she’ll hate him even more if he makes any advances towards the new guy. In the past, she couldn’t do anything about it. Except now that she’s been graduated a year and is now the guard instructor, she actually has power to keep him away. Which only means he has to be a little more careful.  
  
“I don’t have any look. I’m just gonna be polite and introduce myself.” He gets to his feet, ignoring the warnings his friends call after him. The closer he gets, the harder his heart beats in his chest and he feels eyes burning into him as he approaches. Man, is he actually _nervous_ to talk to this guy? That’s… weird. Before he knows it, he’s standing behind the guy, who’s staring down at the set book hanging on a string tied around his waist. Shit, that glistening skin is even better close up…  
  
He’s about to turn around and jump ship when the guy looks up, glancing over his shoulder and pinning Dean in place with a pair of vibrant blue eyes.  
  
Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
  
“Um, hello.” Damn, that voice too. All deep and gravely, and...  
  
“Hi. Um, I’m Dean. Dean –“  
“Winchester,” the guy finishes for him. It’s probably safe to say the guard girls warned him about the infamous Dean Winchester.  
  
Dean laughs uneasily. “Yeah, that’s me. Heard you’re new, thought I’d come introduce myself.”  
  
The new guy quirks an eyebrow. “And that is the extent of your intentions with this conversation?”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows knit together. “Uh –“  
  
“Because if so, it’s nice to meet you, Dean. However, if what I’ve been told is true, I want to make it clear I’m not interested in any advances you may be planning. You can save your breath, my time won’t be wasted, and we can both be on our way.”  
  
Dean’s mouth drops open, absolutely speechless. What the fuck? He doesn’t even know the guy’s name and barely got a sentence out before the immediate rejection. Dean can’t exactly blame him for saying what he said, given Dean’s track record, but still. Now Dean’s a little peeved, his confidence stinging.  
  
“That’s some ego you have, buddy,” he replies coolly. “Just thought I’d be a nice guy and welcome you to the band. But whatever.”  
  
New Guy shrugs. “I just wanted to make myself clear. I’m not interested in having any relations with you.”  
  
Ouch.  
  
Dean scoffs. “Wasn’t planning on pursuing,” A terrible, terrible lie, “But hey, if it makes you feel better to think so.” He spins around and stalks away, ignoring the low whistles and taunts being thrown after him. He basically got rejected in front of the whole band because everyone’s stopped to watch on their way back to the field.  
  
“Told you to stay away,” Jo tuts when he passes by.  
  
“Get to your set, Jo,” he orders, using his section leader voice. He realizes he’s being an ass and he’ll apologize later for it, but he doesn’t need salt rubbed in his wounds right now.  
  
He spends the next hour silently seething as he focuses on learning drill and thanking the universe that New Guy’s dot is on the opposite end of the field so Dean doesn’t have to see him. When lunch comes around, the food and air conditioning calms him a bit, but he’s still grumpy. No one dares tease him about what happened.  
  
When the band stays inside to learn music, Dean takes the drumline to the field house to practice their music in peace. He typically runs his sectionals more relaxed, but he needs to forget about what happened earlier, so today there’s no goofing off. Even Victor, his co-section leader who’s usually the bad cop between the two of them, isn’t happy with the way Dean’s running their sectional. When the guard comes in to claim the field house, Dean brushes past them without a second look, calling for his section to grab their shit and hustle to the practice field.  
  
The last two hours of their eight hour day is spent trying to pair music to the drill they learned today. It’s pretty disastrous, but Crowley does call a compliment to the drumline for ‘sounding the least horrible’. So that’s what happens when they actually work in sectionals.  
  
When four o’clock rolls around and the band is dismissed to go home, Dean calls his section together.  
  
“Listen guys, I know I was kinda an ass today –“  
  
“We all have our off days, Dean,” Garth offers sympathetically. He can’t help but smile at that.  
  
“But you all did good work. We even got a half-assed compliment from Crowley. Rest up for tomorrow.” He claps each of them on the shoulder before gathering their stuff from the front sideline and walking back towards the school. Dean’s about to follow before someone calls his name. When he turns, he’s met with a shorter guy with bronze hair and golden eyes, lips twisted into a smirk.  
  
“Can I help you?”  
  
“Heard my brother burned you good today.”  
  
And there goes his relatively okay mood. Dean scowls.  
  
“He’s a real peach.”  
  
The guy laughs, throwing his head back and Dean rolls his eyes. “That’s Cassie for you. Name’s Gabriel, by the way. I’m the new drum major.”  
  
Dean glances at his outreached hand and shakes it begrudgingly. “Guess you know who I am.”  
  
Gabriel motions for them to start walking back to the school. “Sure do. Cassie told me all about it at lunch.”  
  
Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “His name’s Cassie?”  
  
“Nickname. Castiel would probably kill you if you called him that though.”  
  
Dean licks his lips, tempted to try the unique name out for himself but withholds. No, he’s not going to find anything interesting about the guy because he’s an asshole.  
  
“Well, you can tell him to relax. I have no interest in egotistical dicks,” Dean says, sounding more bitter than he intended to.  
  
“He’s actually a nice guy. Castiel can be blunt sometimes, but you can’t say he isn’t honest.”  
  
“The dude can say and do what he wants, I don’t care,” Dean grunts, wanting to be done with this conversation already.  
  
Gabriel grins. “Right. You don’t care. Anyway, just thought I’d personally introduce myself before I’d have to reject you in front of the whole band too. See ya bright and early tomorrow, Bucko!”  
  
Dean stops in his tracks, watching Gabriel laugh to himself while he saunters ahead. He’s not sure who the bigger dick is between the two of them. It doesn’t matter. Dean’s got better things to do than sulk and seethe over the two of them.  
  


*****

The second day of band camp is better than the first. Dean decided he’s not about to show Castiel how bruised his ego is after yesterday. Screw that guy. Instead, he focuses on Crowley ordering them through basics block the first half of the morning and learning drill the second half. When lunch comes around, he doesn’t even think to seek Castiel out. He laughs with his friends and beats Benny in a competition of who can shove the most grapes in their mouth. Which, of course, earns him a few suggestive comments from Jo and Charlie. He even gets in some good natured teasing when Sam decides to go talk to Jess, one of the freshmen guard girls. Sam isn’t amused, but Dean still smiles proudly after him as he goes. This is the band camp he’s come to love after four years.

Like all good things though, his mood comes to a crashing halt after lunch.

While the band rehearses the show music in the band room, it’s time for the drumline to part for the hour to work on their stuff. Dean brings them to the field house, the spot they always claim, but when he walks through the doors, he stops in his tracks when his eyes rest on Castiel. He’s not alone though. From a quick scan, it seems maybe all the freshmen are with him because Dean recognizes Jess among the baby faced girls.

“Hate to interrupt, but we claimed this space,” he announces from across the room, voice echoing in the large space between them. Castiel glances over at him, the eye roll visible even from where Dean’s standing.

“Kali said it was fine we work here.”

Dean saunters closer, trying to keep up his air of confidence despite the fact that his heart is racing in his chest. “Did she now? Last I checked, the guard practices in the grassy area outside the band room.”

Castiel holds his gaze steadily. “We needed space to spread out. The freshmen require further help and it was too hectic with me trying to teach them while Kali works with the others.”

“And since when are you section leader? Where’s Anna? Or Rachel?” Dean challenges, crossing his arms.

Castiel scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your concern how our section runs, but they asked me to help out. I may be new here, Dean, but I’m not incompetent.”

Dean just smirks. “Well, since you’re new, I’ll be the one to tell you that the fieldhouse belongs to drumline after lunch.”

“Dean, it’s fine. This is a large enough space for everyone,” Victor says, stepping up beside him. Dean shoots him a look, because he definitely doesn’t want to share anything with Castiel, let alone be in the same room.

“Yeah man, we don’t mind,” Ash chimes in.

Castiel nods gratefully. “Thank you. We’d prefer not to have to waste more time finding a new spot.”

Victor simply nods and leads the way to the other side of the fieldhouse, but Dean’s still standing in front of Castiel, glaring at him. He expects Castiel to give him a dirty look and turn away, but the bastard stands his ground, staring right back at Dean.

“Alright, alright. Put the rulers away, boys,” Jo says, nudging Dean to move.

Dean snickers under his breath as he turns away. “Hope you have a strong voice because it gets pretty loud in here.”

Dean keeps true to his promise. The snare drum can already be a loud sound, but he may or may not kick it up a notch just to make Castiel’s sectional that much closer to hell. He glances over at him every so often just to see if he’s getting under Castiel’s skin, but if he is, the guy doesn’t show it. Okay, maybe Dean’s also sneaking peeks at the way graceful way Castiel works his flag. The way he stops to help if any of the girls are struggling and the way he offers them encouraging smiles along the way.

God, he hates this guy so much.

Sectionals couldn’t end soon enough – or far too soon? Regardless, it’s back out into the sweltering afternoon heat to join the rest of the band on the practice field. Guard never shows up though, which is more than fine with Dean.

*****

The days start to blur together. After the first couple days, band camp is pretty routine.

Wake up at seven. Get him and Sammy to school by 7:45 because in band, early is on time and on time is late. Spend just about an hour in basics block. Spend the remaining time learning new drill. Guard joins them occasionally. Lunch at twelve. Sectionals at one. Then for the last two-ish hours, they review the drill learned in the morning with instruments, even if they don’t play. Guard always joins them.

Just as it’s guaranteed for Crowley to yell and push everyone to a near breaking point every day, the same goes for Dean and Castiel sassing each other. If Dean’s standing bored on his dot with his snare while Crowley’s focused on a different section of the field and his friends are too far away to goof off with, he’ll lazily twirl his sticks or toss them in the air. He completely blames the heat for when one fumbles out of his hand and with a groan, he has to either awkwardly crouch to pick it up or duck out of his harness, which he’s almost always too lazy to do. Somehow, Castiel is always nearby when it happens. The bastard is never shy to point out when Dean drops something. What’s even more annoying is that Dean’s never seen Cas drop his flag to return the sentiment.

The way Dean gets his jabs in is when Cas misses his dot and nearly collides with someone or screws up the form of the set. These include but aren’t limited to: _“Hey, at least you’re only one yard line off of your dot. Hopefully you’ll get it by the end of the season”_ , or _“I don’t know man, I think you forgot to point your toes that time”_ , plus countless others. They both get creative with their jabs.

No one seems to know what to make of their quips at each other, but they’re smart enough not to get in the middle of it. Michael, the head drum major, was the only one who stepped in to tell them to shut up when they started getting especially spirited with each other.

Dean thinks there’s no way he can hate Castiel any more than he already does until he’s proven wrong on day five.

It’s unbearably hot today, the weather supposedly spiking to mid-90s. The heat never stops Crowley from keeping them outside though. Given that the outside is practically an oven slowly baking them all to their deaths, some of the girls are marching in sports bras while guys are bare chested all together. Dean’s tempted to follow suit, but he’s not one to flaunt his body. Instead, he spends the next water break pouring one of his extra water bottles over his head, the cold drops rolling down his back before getting soaked up by his shirt. It’s actually better because the fabric clings to his body and it’ll take longer for the sun to suck away his chilled relief. It especially feels nice when he runs his fingers through his hair, the cool droplets finding their way to his scalp and cooling where the sun’s been beating down all day.

“Looks like you got an audience, Chief,” Benny murmurs to him. Dean furrows his eyebrows, following Benny’s subtle eye flicker until he reaches the source, which happen to be blue eyes that instantly dart away. Dean’s heart stutters because what the hell? Was Cas just staring at him?

Dean scoffs. “Please. Cas thinks he’s too good to even look my way.”

Benny raises an eyebrow. “Cas, huh?”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying not to blush. “Castiel, whatever. That’s not the point.”

Benny snickers under his breath and goes back to talking about their plans tonight to gather their friends and head to The Roadhouse, which is the bar run by Jo’s mother, Ellen. They’re obviously not allowed to drink, but nothing can beat Ellen’s burgers and milkshakes. Dean’s having a little trouble paying attention to the conversation though, which Charlie, Jo, Sam and Kevin have chimed in to. His focus keeps slipping away to peek over at Cas – _Castiel_.

Looks like some of the guard, mostly upperclassmen, brought out their rifles today. Like the rest of the band, they’re all lounging on the sideline, drinking water and chatting with each other. All except Castiel and Meg, a senior who Dean’s never been too fond of. Her favorite pastime seems to be getting under his skin and flirting with him just because she knows it annoys him. But he’s noticed her taking quite a liking to Cas.

They’re both standing, Meg doing lazy drop spins while Cas does some small tosses; singles and doubles. Meg is talking to Cas while he does it, sometimes resulting in a smile or a roll of his eyes. He keeps using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face in between tosses before he finally sheds the thing, which has Dean nearly choking on the breath he inhales. Thankfully, Jo’s too busy teasing Kevin about being in pit and not having to march while Charlie and Benny are butting heads on whose freshmen are better; the flutes or the trombones. And it seems Jess snuck over to occupy Sam’s attention. No one notices the way Dean has to cough a few times to regain his breath because _holy shit_ , Cas’ body is fucking _toned_.

Dean’s seen how Cas’ muscles move and shift under his clothes when he stretches and practices his flag work, but there’s no way he could’ve imagined the sight in front of him now. And god, those loose shorts are laying all sorts of low on his hips and it has Dean already half hard in his ‘booty’ shorts, as Sam so kindly referred to them this morning.

To make matters worse, Meg pauses her drop spins to sidle up to him, leaning in close to whisper in Cas’ ear. Castiel looks confused at whatever she says, but a small spark ignites in his expression and he nods. Stepping back, Cas quickly stretches out his arms and rolls his shoulders, taking a few deep breaths.

And so begins the tosses.

He starts off with a single. Then a double. Followed by a triple. Meanwhile, Meg is calling out the numbers, attracting the attention of everyone else. She keeps counting, others starting to join in as Cas tosses a four, a five. Six. Fucking _seven_. And the fucker nails them all flawlessly! He catches with a strong grip, the strap of the rifle slapping all too appealing between his steady hand and the solid, taped up wood.

“Come on, Clarence. Show us the eight,” Meg crows, arms crossed over her chest with that typical smirk set on her lips. Dean may not be in guard, but he’s dated enough guard girls to know that being able to throw an eight is an impressive accomplishment. Castiel grins, and for a fleeting second, Dean thinks their eyes meet before Cas is bending his knees, pointing the nose of the rifle downwards before letting it sail into the air. It’s as if the whole band stops to hold its breath as they silently count the spins against the glaring sun. All too quickly, the weapon lands solid in Castiel’s waiting hands. Not even a fucking stumble.

Cheers and whistles break out from the group, Charlie being one of the louder ones which is irritating. So much for loyalty. Dean rips his gaze away, his skin getting hot with annoyance and okay, how can anyone not get hot and bothered by that? But the fact that he’s so turned on makes him hate Castiel Novak that much more.

“Fucking show off,” Dean mumbles under his breath before downing more of his water. Benny catches the comment and gives him a look but Dean ignores it. He’s never been so happy to hear Crowley’s grating voice yell for everyone to get set.

*****

The weekend goes by way too quick. The last two days of band camp are always the worst because now’s the point where it gets old standing out in the sun for nearly eight hours a day. Everyone is exhausted. Everyone is sunburned. Everyone is tired of listening to Crowley’s stupid voice demean and order them around.

Dean was able to push Cas’ little stunt from his mind over the weekend, but that all goes away when he sees him again on Monday. He finds himself getting more distracted when guard joins them on the practice field. Well, only by one guard member in particular. Dean only gets more pissed off when it causes him to miss his dot or, being the lead snare, fuck up the tempo because his eyes aren’t on any of the four drum majors. Gabriel teases him for the musical disaster, but Michael, Luke and Raphael are less than pleased. Not to mention Crowley and even Chuck is looking annoyed at his fuck ups. As a result, Dean catches himself taking out his anger by launching harsher jabs at Cas in their usual back and forth exchanges that even Cas starts to look pissed.

Tuesday, the last day, Dean spends fighting hard to stay focused and decides to ignore Cas all together. It works out well for him, actually. He has a good time with his friends, most of whom are seniors like him, and is able to call the last day a success. In fact, Dean’s really bummed about it being his last day of band camp. As much as he hates it sometimes, he loves it. He met his friends here. He made memories here.

To hold onto it just a little bit longer, he offers to cart the drum major’s podiums inside and help pit wheel in the percussion instruments. He promises his friends that he’ll catch up with them to celebrate their last day after he’s done and allows Sam to drive home with Jess and her mom. By the time Dean’s done putting away all the equipment and organizing the drums, nearly everyone is gone.

Dean takes a moment to smile at the empty band room, officially saying his goodbyes to band camp before heading out the door. He stops when he sees Cas a little ways down the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear, body tensed and his tone doesn’t sound too happy.

“I’ve been waiting an hour. I need you to pick me up –No, Gabriel can’t he – So what am I supposed to do? Walk home?”

Dean hesitates, unable to help tuning into the conversation. Does Cas not have a ride? Where’s Gabriel? He’s the one that always drove them to and from band camp. He snaps out of his wonderings when Cas sighs loudly.

“You know what? Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ll figure it out myself.” With that, he hangs up and throws the phone onto his duffle bag, hand shaking as he runs it through his dark hair.

Fuck, this is Dean’s cue, isn’t it? Goddammit.

“Uh hey,” he begins, not wanting to startle him.

Cas doesn’t turn. “I’m not in the mood, Dean.”

Dean looks skyward. What cruel god is punishing him right now? Taking a small breath he looks back to Cas and approaches him slowly until he’s beside him, still keeping a fair amount of space between them.

“Do you, um, need a ride?”

Castiel finally looks at him, a scowl on his face. “Why? So you can hold this over my head? So you can tell everyone my father could care less if I’m stranded here? Just please, go away.”

Dean frowns. “Cas, I’m not-“

“I don’t want your help. Now just… just leave me alone.” Cas bends over, shoving his phone in the pocket of his duffle bag before slinging it over his shoulder, reaching down again for his rifle and flag. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Would you stop being a stubborn ass and let me drive you home?” Castiel hesitates although not without a glare, so Dean takes the opportunity to continue. “You’re exhausted and I bet that bag isn’t light by any means. The flag and rifle’s gonna get heavy real quick too. Not to mention your shoulders are burned and you’re probably dehydrated. So why don’t you put aside your pride for five seconds and accept the damn ride.”

Cas’ eyes soften for a moment, though he still doesn’t look happy, and gives a resigned nod.

“Fine.”

Dean nods back.

“Fine.”

When he reaches to for the flag to help carry some of the equipment, Cas brushes past him and towards the parking lot. Dean huffs but follows after, pointing out his car even though Cas already seemed like he knew which one it was. Well, it _is_ kinda hard to miss Baby.

“Careful in shoving your crap in her. I better not find any dents or scratches,” Dean warns, to which Cas mutters something under his breath that he doesn’t catch.

Once they’re both in the Impala, Dean starts her up and pulls out of the school parking lot in the direction Cas said his neighborhood was. They sit in tense silence for several minutes before Dean can’t take it anymore.

“So where’s Gabriel?”

Cas keeps his eyes trained out the window. “He’s had a thing going on with Kali. She finally said yes to let him take her out for ice cream and he didn’t want me ‘cramping his style’.”

Dean can’t help but chuckle, oddly amused at hearing such a phrase come out of Cas’ mouth. The air quotes are more than apparent in his tone.

“I thought I saw Gabe trying to get with Kali. Didn’t know the guy would actually pull it off though. Kali has no tolerance for men. I would know.”

Castiel doesn’t respond and they’re plunged once again into tension and awkwardness. Dean’s about ready to throw himself out of the car if it didn’t mean Baby would get damaged in the process.

“Thank you.”

The two words take him off guard, Cas’ soft voice loud in the silence between them. Dean glances over, but Cas still isn’t looking at him.

“For what?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You know for what.”

Huh, guess that should’ve been obvious. “Oh. It’s no problem. You’re on the way home, actually.”

“Still. I know we don’t exactly get along well, so I appreciate you doing this.”

Dean snorts. “I’m not that much of a dick.”

Finally Cas looks over at him, eyes sparkling. “Would’ve had me fooled.”

“You’re one to talk. You’re not exactly a picnic either, Cas,” Dean fires back, but unlike the other times they’ve teased each other, it lacks any real heat. Castiel furrows his brows, eyes turning curious and Dean can tell there’s a question perched on those chapped lips, but it’s never asked.

“I apologize for the way we met. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about your intentions,” he says, looking down at his hands. “It’s just that I heard all about Dean Winchester from the girls and they were all so sure you’d try your flirtations on me. I shouldn’t have assumed anything before judging you myself.”

Dean blushes because, well, Cas isn’t wrong. He had every intention of going over there to flirt and he just got pissy for being called out and rejected. “No, it’s okay. To be honest, they were right.” He can see the way Cas’ gaze snaps back to him, but Dean keeps his eyes on the road. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, though. I’m not interested,” he adds quickly, a lump forming in his throat as the voice in his head screams at him for being a damn liar. But he’s not about to take a second rejection from Cas, especially now that it feels more personal between them.

“Oh.” Cas looks away, slumping a little against the seat. Probably out of relief. “That’s… good.”

Dean forces himself not to look over as he turns onto Cas’ street. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For the way I acted.”

“I forgive you,” Cas tells him quietly before pointing ahead. “It’s up there – the third house before the stop sign.”

Dean nods and pulls into the driveway, a question gnawing at his stomach. He’s not sure where he and Cas stand. Sure, they apologized, but this doesn’t exactly make them friends. Hell, they could show up at the next band rehearsal and act like this whole conversation never happened. Maybe even revert back to their old ways. Dean would hate for that to happen because whether he’s happy with it or not, he likes Cas. He’d much rather get to know the guy rather than fight with him.

When Dean parks the car, Cas thanks him one last time before moving to get out.

“Cas, wait.” Damn his traitorous mouth.

Castiel looks over his shoulder, tongue ghosting out to lick his lips before answering. “Yes?”

“I, um…” Fuck, why did he do this? “A group of us are heading to The Roadhouse tonight to celebrate the seniors’ last day of band camp. I know you’re still new to the band, but you’re a senior too. You’re welcome to join us. And if you need a ride…”

The question hangs in the air, and there are conflicting emotions flickering across Cas’ face that are sending Dean’s heart into a frantic tantrum. Why did he have to open his big mouth?

“I appreciate the offer, Dean, but I don’t want your pity.”

Dean feels like the air gets punched out of him. “This isn’t a pity invite, Cas. Not at all.”

Cas still looks unsure but smiles nonetheless. “Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline this time.”

Disappointment is bitter in Dean’s stomach. “Okay. You know where we’ll be if you change your mind.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Dean almost thinks Cas will say yes right then before he pushes the door open, getting out to grab his things from the back seat. When he passes by rolled down passenger window, Cas pauses to make eye contact with Dean.

“Goodbye, Dean. And thank you again for the ride.”

Dean nods, giving him a small wave. “See ya, Cas.”

With that, Castiel makes his way up the driveway and into his house. Dean waits until he’s inside before backing out and heading home.

God, he’s completely and utterly fucked. All because of Castiel Novak.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this! I've included a couple links within the text in case some didn't know the terminology being referenced :)
> 
> Thank you to [Naomi](http://adoringjensen.tumblr.com) for being my lovely beta ♥

“… Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty! Now the other leg,” Anna calls out.  
  
Castiel reaches to grab for his left foot, bending over enough that he could touch his nose to his knee if his eyes weren’t trained on the heavy metal door that led into the band room.  
  
It’s the first day of school. The day’s already been a great source of anxiety for Castiel since this is a new school and, besides his bandmates and Gabriel, he knows no one. Being a senior, it’s even more intimidating because most of his peers have been going to school together at least four years, if not since elementary school. But somehow, waiting in each class to see if Dean Winchester is going to walk through the door has been the most nerve wracking today.  
  
Castiel hasn’t even seen a glance of Dean in the hallways. So when he went the first three periods Dean-less, he’s been feeling all sorts of restless for fourth and fifth period, which is when he’s guaranteed to see Dean.  
  
During marching season, band kids have altered schedules that allow them to have their study hall combined with the regular band period so they can have extra rehearsal time during the day. Meaning, there’s time to head out to the practice field and run sets. It also explains why Castiel is outside in the middle of the school day, stretching out his body in preparation to spin.  
  
Every time the band door opens, Castiel’s eyes flicker over to see who will emerge, but each time he’s disappointed. He hasn’t seen Dean since that car ride after the final day of band camp. It was a surprising encounter. They’d both apologized to each other. That was probably the last thing Castiel thought would happen when he woke up that day. Even more shocking? Dean invited him out to spend time with him and his friends.  
  
Castiel didn’t go.  
  
He almost went, though. At one point in the evening, when Gabriel returned home with the car, Castiel gathered his keys and was standing with a hand clutching the knob of their front door. All he had to do was walk outside, get in his car, and drive. He was stuck, though. He couldn’t shake the nagging thought that despite Dean’s reassurance, it was a pity invite. Besides, Dean was, well, _Dean_. To put it simply, a person like Dean doesn’t hang around with someone like Castiel. An awkward, dorky individual who knows how to point his toes and dance with flags but can’t name one character on _Game of Thrones_.  
  
Unfortunately, because Castiel decided against going to The Roadhouse, it means that he hasn’t seen Dean since then and he has no clue what might’ve changed during those couple weeks before the start of school. He’s anxious about whether or not they’ll slip back into their old ways, or if that conversation in Dean’s car will be remembered. Castiel’s hoping for the latter.  
  
The band door opens again.  
  
The gleam of Benny’s trombone catches the sun first, but sure enough, Dean’s right behind him, the tips of his drumsticks lightly tapping out a rhythm on his snare. Castiel’s barely seen him for a second before their eyes meet. They hold each other’s gazes for about three seconds before Dean looks away, carrying on towards the practice field with Benny. Castiel thought maybe Dean nodded at him too, but it’s bright and sunny outside so he can’t be too sure.  
  
It’s interesting though. Dean didn’t glare at him. There wasn’t the typical scowl or hardening of his eyes. Instead, Dean looked at him warily, as if testing the water the same way Castiel was. Perhaps this means things will be different between them after all.  
  
Turns out, everything is completely different. Every band period, every practice – they’re the complete opposite of what they were during band camp. They used to send the other biting remarks, passive aggressive jibes, sneering at each other until they were silenced by a drum major or even the assistant director, Crowley.  
  
Now?  
  
It’s unnervingly silent. They exchange cautious glances, as if waiting to see who’s going to break first. Tiny nods in greeting and farewell are exchanged wordlessly, even from across open spaces. Instead of being told to quit bickering, now Castiel hears Dean’s friends tease him about the two of them not going at each other’s throats.  
  
Castiel overhears one such conversation one day when their Wednesday evening practice ends. Everyone’s in the process of collecting their things and walking back to the school to put away equipment and go home. Usually, Castiel spends his time at band rehearsals with Meg, but she’s being scolded by Rachel for her lack of effort and Castiel didn’t want to awkwardly wait while those two got into yet another argument. So he’s walking back to the school alone, not immediately realizing he ended up behind Dean and his group of friends.  
  
“So what’s goin’ on with you and Cas?” he hears Benny ask Dean. Castiel guesses they don’t know he’s right behind them.  
  
“Yeah, what gives? You two finally kiss and make up?” Charlie’s voice is suggestive and Castiel can only imagine her wiggling her eyebrows, the way he often sees her do when she’s teasing Dean.  
  
“You guys complained when we were fighting, and now you’re complaining that we’re not? Make up your damn minds.”  
  
“We just want to know what’s up,” Kevin offers as he pushes along his marimba.  
  
Castiel catches the slight raise of Dean’s shoulders from under his harness. “I dunno. Just tired of fighting, I guess. There’re better things to use our energy for.”  
  
Interesting answer.  
  
With Jo and Charlie being the closest to him, it’s no surprise what he hears Jo whisper not so secretively to Charlie, “Told you they were having hate sex.”  
  
Castiel feels his entire face burn at the comment while Charlie slaps a hand over her mouth as she snorts out a laugh.  
  
“I heard that,” Dean growls, spinning around to glare at them. “I told you guys, I’m not interested in him. Can we please drop it now?”  
  
Dean’s eyes flicker in between the two girls and lands on Castiel. He feels like his heart stops in his chest. He immediately looks away from Dean’s paled gaze and slows his walking to put more space between them. Castiel’s not sure why there’s such a pit in his stomach from Dean’s words. Thankfully, he can’t dwell on it too long before Meg’s at his side, not wasting one moment before she’s complaining about Rachel and Anna. Castiel listens, grateful for the distraction. He has no idea if what just happened is good or bad. He’s also not sure which he’d rather it be.  
  


*****

  
Crowley’s barking for everyone to be in block formation in two minutes so they can be led to warm-ups while Kali’s calling the same to the guard. It’s the first competition of the season and despite getting up early for rehearsal and then driving an hour to the hosting school, everyone’s buzzing with excitement.

“What do you say we kick some ass today, Clarence?”

Castiel glances to Meg, who is smiling triumphantly as if they’d already won. He wishes he could share her confidence.

“Yes, that sounds like the goal,” he replies, forcing a smile.

But Meg’s not stupid. She sighs.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re acting all weird yet? It’s bad juju, baby.”

Castiel used to be unnerved with the pet names Meg would call him, but he’s come to ignore them, understanding that it’s just a Meg-thing. He realizes that the pet name isn’t meant to be provocative, but with the unstable state of mind he’s currently in, it’s unsettling.

“I told you, I’m fine. Just… I need to grab some water really quick. I’ll catch up with you.”

Meg gives him an incredulous stare but doesn’t argue. Castiel turns and disappears inside the bus, going to his seat and digging in his bag for his water bottle. He gulps down about half of it before stopping himself. There’s no greater uncomfortable feeling than jazz running across the field and feeling water slosh around inside your stomach. He glances out the window, catching sight of Dean a little ways away in section leader mode as he looks over the drumline. Castiel watches him for a moment, the way he tucks a loose tendril of hair into Jo’s [shako](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=4476473) and readjusts it on her head, then giving a nod of approval.

That’s always surprised Castiel about Dean. On a first impression, he would’ve never guessed Dean would be a good section leader. But Castiel’s come to realize there’s an air of protectiveness and care Dean has for the people around him.  
  
Castiel tears his gaze away. Enough stalling.

He exits the bus and goes to where his flag and rifle are propped up against the side of the bus. Everyone that was milling around outside the buses have walked the short distance to start forming the parade block, so it’s quiet save for the distant murmur of voices and the faint echo of whatever band is performing in the nearby stadium. He picks up his rifle, the familiar weapon feeling heavy in his hand. It’s as if it’s weighing him down, and Castiel can’t move. All he can do is stare at the flag, willing himself to grab that next.

Castiel has a featured part in the first movement. Musically, the beginning has a gradual build. The front ensemble plays a melody of haunting sounds, minor chords clashing together and fading away. The flutes join in too, almost giving the impression of wind echoing through an empty house at night. The band’s spread out across the field in seemingly random placements, and while they move from set to set, the guard runs through them, quiet and elusive.

The unique part of their performance is that the guard shares one rifle while the others dance and slip between the band. It allows for a series of brief solos, starting with Rachel. Her solo ends with throwing a toss that Anna catches. Then Anna gets her sixteen counts of work before it’s Castiel’s turn for the temporary spotlight.

The thing about Castiel’s introduction, though, is that as Anna throws her six, Castiel somersaults into a kneeling position behind her, arms slipping around her thighs at the last minute to catch the rifle in front of her before it can hit the ground. They worked on the toss for days. Since Castiel’s low to the ground, there’s only so much he can see of the rifle before he has to reach around her and catch it blind. He’s lost count of how many times the toss went wrong.

Sometimes, it was Castiel’s fault. He’d be too late and miss the catch or reach around Anna too early, and it ruined the suspense of whether the rifle would be dropped or not. And sometimes, it was Anna’s fault. She’d throw too far in front of them for Castiel to even reach. Other times, the rifle collided painfully against Castiel’s wrists because Anna didn’t get enough height in the toss. There are also the times she threw too much above them, so when the rifle came down, she had to duck out of the way to avoid the weapon hitting her, which led to her stumbling and tripping right over Castiel.

It’s safe to say they both have enough bruises from this toss. There’s an innumerable amount of mistakes that could end in disaster for them.

They’re fairly inconsistent with correctly throwing and catching. When they were in their morning rehearsal, they successfully performed the toss three times in a row. But three times doesn’t give Castiel any comfort. He can’t help but have this sinking feeling in his stomach that something will go horribly wrong.

And if it actually goes right, what if Castiel drops on the rest of his short solo? He doesn’t do any fancy tosses since it’s mostly dancing and spinning, but there is a double that he could fumble. Or there’s the quad parallel toss he uses to transition into Jess’ solo. He has all the faith that Jess will catch it just fine. Out of all the freshmen, she has a natural talent with the rifle and it’s also why she’s the only freshmen with one of the rifle solos. But what if Castiel manages it screw it up for her somehow?

He could really let them all down today.

Castiel’s so lost in storm clouds of his thoughts that he doesn’t hear anyone approach, so he startles at the sound of his name being spoken, but doesn’t take his eyes off the white silk of his flag.

“Um, Cas?”

He breathes out.

“Dean.”

“What’re you doing? We’re about to head to warm-ups.” A pause. “You okay?”

Castiel turns around to look at Dean. There’s no one else with him, but he’s holding something.

“I’m going to drop.” The corners of his mouth pull downwards at finally admitting what’s been going through his head in a mantra all day.

“What?”

“My solo. It could be when it starts – that partner toss with Anna. She throws it but I reach around her body to catch it. It’s a blind catch. I could miss it completely.”

“Didn’t you guys nail that ear-“

“Or the double. Or the parallel that Jess catches. What if I mess up her solo by not throwing correctly? Her very first competition and I could just ruin -”

“Cas,” Dean speaks up, making him stop his ramblings that were beginning to build into panic. “You’re going to be fine. Even if you do drop, so what? The season just started. There’s plenty of time to redeem yourself. I’ll tell you one thing - standing here and worrying about it ain’t gonna do you any favors.”

Castiel nods slowly. “I guess you have a point.”

Dean quirks a small smile. “You’re not going to drop, Cas.”

Castiel can’t bring himself to share Dean’s confidence, but he doesn’t want to reject his attempts at making him feel better either. He glances down at the object Dean’s holding. “So why are you over here?”

Dean waves the feathered thing. “Ash and Krissy were messing around and the poor plume paid the price.” Castiel raises his eyebrows. He didn’t even realize it was a plume from the destroyed state it’s in. The plume’s mostly stripped of its feathers and the few ones left are jutting out at unattractive angles. “I swear, they behave like twelve year olds sometimes,” Dean adds with a shake of his head.

The sound of Crowley’s yelling has Dean scrambling towards the equipment trailer, presumably to fetch a new plume from the container they’re stored in, and Castiel shoulders relax slightly. Who knew it’d be Dean to be the one to settle his nerves? He decides not to wait up though because why would he anyway? They’re not exactly pronounced friends. He gathers his flag and rifle and heads over to join the parade block.

Castiel doesn’t see him until after the performance. He’s crouched down outside his bus as he stuffs his flag and rifle into the protective bag they use whenever they travel. Feeling someone’s eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder to find Dean staring at him, though his gaze slightly lowered. His eyes flicker up to meet Castiel’s and he seems to realize he was caught. A blush heats up Castiel’s face, but thankfully it’s still red from the exertion of the performance. He tries to calm his racing heart when he sees Dean walking towards him.

“So?” Dean asks, strolling up to him while running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

Castiel tears his gaze away, not wanting to think too much about how well Dean looks in his uniform. He nips at his lip to conceal his smile.

“I didn’t drop.”

“See? What did I tell you?” Castiel can hear the grin in Dean’s voice.

A small laugh shakes his shoulders as he stands and faces Dean. “Yes, you were right for once.”

Dean scoffs, looking like he wants to retort but stops himself when Meg sidles up next to them.

“You did great, Clarence,” she drawls. “Not that I’m surprised.”

Castiel doesn’t miss the way Dean rolls his eyes, but he ducks his head at the compliment. “Thank you, Meg.”

“So yeah – guess I’ll go change now. Um, good job, Cas,” Dean says, slowly backing away and looking like he’s about to vomit. Castiel’s about to speak up, concerned that perhaps Dean is dehydrated, but Meg beats him to it.

“See ya, Dean-o!”

Frowning, Castiel watches Dean go. He’s still not sure where this leaves them, but perhaps this means they really are past their petty feud. Castiel hopes they are.

Meg’s groaning startles him out of his musings.

“ _Please_ don’t tell me you have a crush on Pretty Boy, Clarence. He’s nothing but a heartbreak waiting to happen.”

Castiel laughs shallowly, shaking his head. “Of course not, Meg.”

“Good. Now let’s go peel this spandex off our asses, hm?”

Castiel agrees, though he doesn’t understand why there’s such a dissonance within him. He had a good performance. He and Dean are being civil. And now he gets to spend the rest of the evening watching the other bands perform. So why does he feel like something’s off?

*****

  
It’s a gradual thing.

Ever since that first competition, Castiel finds himself being less and less guarded with talking to Dean. First it starts with simple greetings.

“ _Hello, Dean_.”

“ _Heya, Cas_.”

And at the end of each practice, there’s their little nods and soft, ‘ _See you later_ ’s. Castiel almost hopes that Gabriel will be an ass and leave him without a ride just to see if Dean would offer to drive him home again. But Kali’s been keeping Gabriel at arm’s length lately, so no such luck.

At the second competition, right before the band is to set up in parade block, Castiel decides to wait back and clear his head like he did for the first competition. And well, he _is_ surprised when Dean finds his way to the equipment trailer to grab an extra pair of sticks, but he definitely wasn’t hoping Dean would come by. They exchange quick well wishes before heading back to the band.

After the performance, when the band sits in the visitor’s bleachers to watch the remaining bands, there are open seats next to Dean and his friends and it just so happens that Castiel claims them with Meg, Gabriel, and Kali right behind him.

There’s a moment where everyone seems shocked that they’re actually sitting next to each other, but after Dean asks Castiel about his performance, they all seem to relax. Dean’s friends are very inviting. They talk directly to Castiel and joke around with him. It’s nice to be with them like this. So many times, he’s been on the receiving end of their curious gazes and he felt like an animal on display. Despite it feeling unusual to interact with Dean so publicly in a positive way, it somehow feels… right.

After the awards ceremony, Castiel finds himself with Dean back towards the buses, the others having gotten separated in the hundreds of other band kids from various schools also trying to find their way to their rightful buses. While they walked, Dean asked how he got into color guard. Castiel got swept up in the story of how his father took him to a college football game when he was young and instead of wanting to be a football player the way Bartholomew hoped for, Castiel fell in love with the beautiful silks and how the guard worked the flags, as if it was an extension of their bodies.

By the time Castiel was done retelling the way his father’s plan backfired on him, he didn’t realize how the crowd had thinned and the background noises are much quieter around them. It really is just them now. It’s the first time they’ve been alone for more than fifteen seconds since that car ride about a month ago.

“So he doesn’t like it, huh?” Dean murmurs, not seeming to notice it was just them.

Castiel shakes his head. “Not at all. Gabriel’s mother doesn’t either. Naomi has an appreciation for music and approves my playing cello for concert season, but she says spinning flags and dancing isn’t for guys. They both think color guard is what ‘turned me gay’. It’s no wonder her and Bartholomew hit it off.”

Castiel’s scared to look at Dean when he says it. He’s not exactly one to open up quickly, and even though he’s not hiding his sexuality from anyone, he always feels vulnerable when he states it point blank to someone he’s not exactly close to. He’s aware Dean’s bisexual, but still… He and Dean don’t know each other. Not really.

“Fucking assholes,” Dean mutters with disgust. “So you’re a cello player, huh? Kevin’s gonna flip when he hears that.”

Castiel relaxes, grateful that Dean isn’t making a big deal about what he just revealed. “Yes, I did hear Kevin’s a cello player. I look forward to chair auditions.” He pauses, wanting to know more about Dean but scared he might cross some unspoken line between them. He decides to take the risk. “So you know what I play in concert. Do you stick with percussion outside of marching band?”

Dean shoves his hands in his pocket as they walk. “Sometimes. I play piano too, so it depends on whatever arrangement Chuck decides on.”

Castiel smiles, a small thing. “Piano is a beautiful instrument. To be honest, I didn’t think to place you as being a piano player.”

Dean snorts. “What did you think I played, then?”

“Brass. It was your cocky arrogance that had me to assume as much. It’s stereotypical, I know.”

That provokes a laugh from Dean. “Damn right it is. Benny’s trombone and he’s like a giant teddy bear. If we’re going off stereotypes, I would’ve put you as flute.”

Castiel glances at him, quirking an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Oh, you know,” Dean shrugs, “Prissy attitude. Stick permanently buried up your ass. Nose so damn high in the air you don’t know what the ground looks like anymore. That kinda thing.”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to laugh. Wow, he’s not sure the last time he laughed so openly like that before. “I’ll tell Charlie you said as much.”

“Hey, we were talking stereotypes!” Dean accuses but he’s laughing too. Castiel hears Dean laugh often, but somehow this sounds different. It’s an addicting sound, nonetheless.

Castiel hums skeptically and it’s then they become aware of how they’re standing in front of the buses.

“Guess it’s time to go,” Dean says. If Castiel didn’t know better, he’d say his tone sounds disappointed.

“I guess so.”

Dean claps him gently on the shoulder. “Good job out there today.”

Castiel fidgets, feeling the tips of his ears warm for a moment before nodding. “You too.”

They gives each other a small wave before Castiel climbs the steps into the guard bus while Dean walks over to his own bus. When Castiel settles down next to Jess - since Meg is taking up the entire seat while she sleeps - Jess smiles at him.

“You seem happy, Cas.”

It’s difficult to hide his smile. “We had a good performance today,” he offers lamely.

She nods, though her eyes glitter knowingly. “It’s nice to see you and Dean getting along, too.”

Castiel swallows thickly. Yes, he and Dean _are_ getting along. And it’s doing funny things to Castiel’s stomach.

“I suppose we are,” he agrees quietly.

*****

  
Castiel’s not sure when exactly they officially become friends. All he knows is that ever since that second competition, their usual simple greetings turn into asking how the other is doing, listening to them talk about anything and everything, walking to and from the practice field for rehearsals together and sitting next to each other during the sparse breaks Crowley allows them. They don’t see each other outside of band and school, but it’s safe to say they’re past their little feud.

Football games are part of marching season. Nearly every Friday night, that’s where band kids are guaranteed to be. They’re enjoyable – the band plays pep tags and marches part of their show during halftime. But it seems the fun for most people comes after half time, when the band is no longer obligated to play. Castiel just goes home, but he’s heard of the plans people make afterwards. He’s overheard Dean and his friends heading to The Roadhouse. Some of the guard girls get together for a movie night. Meg always invites Castiel to join him and her non-band friends to hang out, but Castiel’s wary about that crowd so he always declines. Besides, Castiel’s content with shutting himself in his room to play his cello or read the night away.

That’s exactly what he plans to do now that half time for the third football game has just ended. Everyone’s making their way out to go do whatever it is they’ll spend the rest of their Friday night doing. Castiel is studiously rolling up his flag and changing out of his costume while the crowd in the band room is beginning to trickle out. When Castiel’s grabbed all his things, he realizes Gabriel’s nowhere in sight. Being drum major, he’s normally pretty quick about being ready to go, always eager to pick up some dinner on their way home. But now, he’s nowhere.

Castiel sinks into a chair to wait, thinking maybe the four drum majors are talking with Crowley or something. Across the room, Castiel spots Jess talking to Sam. He grins at the way they both smile and giggle, the epitome of young love. They’re not together, but Castiel has no doubt Sam will ask Jess to homecoming and they’ll start dating. Speaking of Winchester, though, Castiel scans the near empty room for any sign of Dean. Nothing. Not even a sighting of Charlie or Benny or Kevin or Jo. Perhaps Sam’s getting a ride from Jess’ parents and Dean left with the others already. Castiel swallows the disappointment. He barely saw Dean today.

Suddenly, the large room is becoming much too constricting for Castiel’s liking. He wants to leave and push Dean from his mind because he shouldn’t be feeling empty the way he is. Castiel’s not interested in Dean romantically – even though he’d be lying if he didn’t find Dean attractive - but on the extremely slight chance he has feelings for Dean, he lost his chance a long time ago. Dean’s not interested in being anything other than friends now. Honestly, it’s a miracle they’ve even accomplished that.

Standing up quickly, the metal legs of the chair scraping against the floor, Castiel sets off to find Gabriel, his patience wearing thin at this point. He checks the locker room, the percussion room, and even the bathrooms. Nothing. There’s only one other place Gabriel could be, even though the rooms are supposed to be locked.

Sure enough, as Castiel’s jiggling the locked handles to the individual, soundproof practice rooms, one of them opens. Peering around the door, he’s met with the vivid sight of Gabriel being pressed up against the wall by Kali, Gabriel’s hands cupped around her ass.

“Are you kidding me?” Castiel groans, quickly turning away from the sight that’ll now be seared into his mind.

“Castiel,” Kali exclaims breathlessly. He can hear her scuffling away from Gabriel, as if that makes a difference.

“Jesus, Cassie, you ever hear of knocking?” Gabriel huffs. “What do you want?”

Castiel glares at him. “To go home, for one.”

The annoyance from Gabriel’s face disappears, replaced by a meek smile. “Uh, about that. I forgot to tell you - I can’t drive you home tonight.”

Castiel stares at him for a long moment, unable to process what he just heard. Kali clears her throat as she slips past Castiel in the doorway.

“I’ll wait by the car.”

There are a few moments of silence after she leaves before Gabriel’s the one to speak up first. “Look, things are going great with Kali, okay? I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”

Gabriel squeezes his way past him, leaving Castiel standing there fuming. It takes him a few minutes before Castiel commands his feet to follow.

“Are you fucking serious, Gabe?” He calls after him, just before Gabriel can leave the band room.

“Come on Cas, it’s not the end of the world. Mom or Dad can pick you up,” Gabriel shrugs before pushing his way out the door. Castiel’s quick to follow behind him.

“You know very well Bartholomew’s at a business dinner and Naomi couldn’t care less if I’m stuck here.”

“Cassie, I don’t know what to tell you. Kali invited me over and I’m not about to pass up that golden opportunity.”

“So you can’t even drop me off?” Castiel asks incredulously, hiking his guard bag higher on his shoulder.

Gabriel sighs. “I’m sorry, Castiel. She’s waiting for me now and our house is completely out of the way from where hers is. We only have an hour before her parents come back and I really wanna get laid tonight, alright?”

Castiel shakes his head slowly, feeling like he could explode but holds his anger in. There’s no use for it anyway. “Fine. Go have fun.”

“You need a ride, Cas?”

Dean’s voice makes Castiel jump. There he is, standing semi-cloaked in the darkness where the weak light above the door doesn’t reach. Was he there the whole time?

“There ya go, Cassie! Dean-o here can give you a ride. Everyone’s happy.” Gabriel’s grin could light up the entire night sky. It makes Castiel’s blood boil even more. Before anyone could get in another word, Gabriel turns on his heel and practically skips off towards the parking lot.

Castiel catches Dean rolling his eyes.

“He’s a dick.”

“At least you don’t have to live with him,” Castiel grumbles.

Dean chuckles and a second later, Sam’s emerging from the band room with Jess close behind.

“You two done making out?” Dean asks in annoyance. Oh God, they both probably just saw the whole thing too. How embarrassing.

“Dean,” Sam groans while Jess blushes.

“I’m not the one who stayed in there an extra ten minutes,” Dean sniffs before looking to Jess. “You comin’ with us?”

She shakes her head. “Can’t, my mom’s waiting in the parking lot.”

Dean nods and turns to Castiel next. “How about you?”

Castiel starts to shake his head before Sam chimes in. “Yeah, come on, Cas! We’re going to The Roadhouse. It’ll be fun!”

“Thank you, Sam, but I’m not –“

Dean steps forward, throwing an arm around his shoulders and leading him towards the parking lot. “Here’s the thing, Cas. I got the keys, so that means you have to go wherever I go. And you’re coming to The Roadhouse with us.”

Castiel gives him a dirty look but sighs in resignation. He is hungry, anyway. “Alright, if you’re sure no one will mind my being there.”

Dean grins. “Not at all.”

The softness to Dean’s voice makes the corner of Castiel’s mouth quirk upwards. After that awful fight with Gabriel, it’s like fresh air to be with Dean, especially when he’d thought Dean had left already.

Despite the churning anxiety in Castiel’s stomach for hanging out with Dean and his friends outside of a band event, the night actually turns out to be fun. The seven of them slide into a roomy, U-shaped corner booth and order food. Somehow, Castiel ends up next to Dean, but he’s not going to complain about that. Not even when Dean steals some of his fries because Charlie took a good handful from Dean. Kevin jokes that he’s going to beat Castiel in the upcoming chair auditions. He gladly accepts the challenge and they shake on it, solidifying themselves as friendly rivals.

Jo pulls out a deck of cards when they’re all done eating and they go about playing an assortment of card games. Dean helps Castiel along if he’s never played the game before. He’s surprised at how well Sam plays. He may look harmless, but he shows no mercy when it comes to cards. Charlie, who’s on Castiel’s other side, chats endlessly to him in between her and Dean’s trash talking each other. Apparently, they take Rummy 500 very seriously.

Even Benny, who Castiel always had the impression that he didn’t like him, makes him feel welcome. He’s more reserved than the others, but he recounts some entertaining stories of Dean that has Castiel trying to hold his laughter for Dean’s sake. Though, it is strange the way Benny’s eyes keep flickering between him and Dean from across the table.

The end of the night comes too quickly and before Castiel knows it, Dean’s pulling the Impala into his driveway. He pauses before getting out.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean glances at him in the rearview mirror. “Hey, it’s no problem. I know what Gabe did was really shitty, but I’m, uh, kinda glad. It was awesome to have you with us tonight.”

Castiel can’t help but smile for about the hundredth time tonight. “I had fun.”

Dean lifts his hips to dig his phone out of his back pocket, clicking around on it before handing it back to Castiel. “Put your number in. So, um, I can call you or something the next time we hang out.”

Castiel’s stomach flutters as he takes the phone. He tries to ignore the shaky way his fingers enter his contact information before handing it back.

“I look forward to it.”

Dean does some more clicking and about a second later, Castiel’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Now you got mine,” Dean tells him.

Castiel grins to himself, gathering his stuff before opening the car door. “Let Sam know that I enjoyed his company tonight,” Castiel says, glancing at Sam’s sleeping figure slumped over with his cheek pressed against the window.

Dean snickers. “Sure thing.”

Castiel climbs out of the Impala, closing the door behind him. He pauses outside of Dean’s open window to give him a small wave.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean waves back, giving him a crooked smile.

“Night, Cas.”

Castiel makes his way inside, only hearing the Impala rumble away when the door closes behind him. He barely mumbles an apology to Naomi when she demands why he didn’t call to say he was going out. He’s not going to let her ruin such a good night. When he makes it to the safety of his room, he sets his bag and rifle by the door and quickly pulls out his phone to check Dean’s message.

_Heya Cas_

Castiel saves the contact. Even alone, he bites his lip to keep from smiling too wide as he replies to the message.

_Hello, Dean._

*****

  
It’s during one of their Wednesday evening practices that Castiel has a realization.

The band has learned all four movements of the drill and guard’s nearly got all of their work written out. The thing with guard, though, is that their choreography is more susceptible to change. With the band, sets can be rewritten, but it’s more of a hassle to do and Crowley avoids it unless it’s absolutely necessary. However, it’s easier to change up the choreography if something isn’t working. Or, say, switch out who performs a certain solo in the third movement.

Drama is what resulted in the switch. Lisa Braden was the one who originally had the solo, but recently gave it up. Apparently, her and Dean used to date their sophomore year and had recently gotten back together. Castiel purposely didn’t think of why it put a bad taste in his mouth. Regardless, the relationship barely lasted a few weeks before it ended a second time. Dean eluded the topic it when Castiel asked what went wrong and Lisa refused to look in Dean’s direction. Rumor has is that when Dean and Lisa were being intimate, Dean said someone else’s name instead of Lisa’s. Castiel’s not sure how accurate that is, but it would make sense why Lisa is so upset, and understandable as to why she gave up the solo that was more like a duet with the lead snare.

Dean.

The third movement of the show is the ballad movement. Slow tempo, hauntingly beautiful chords, a piano feature played by Charlie. No one’s really sure what the story behind the show is. It was written along with the music by their director, Chuck. Something about two brothers saving the world? Dean once told Castiel that before Chuck became a director, he tried his hand at being a writer. The career change seems to speak for itself.

Regardless, Dean was ‘cast’ as being the brother who sells his soul to save the other brother –probably not so coincidentally, Sam – and he’s dragged to Hell at the end of the second movement. It’s in the third movement that he’s raised from perdition by an angel, originally portrayed by Lisa. But since she’s refusing to interact with Dean in any capacity, the solo for the angel role had to be decided.

Kali barely took a minute before giving the role to Castiel.

He still can’t quite understand why Lisa scoffed at the announcement. Castiel could care less about being in the spotlight. He wasn’t going to fight anyone for it if someone wanted it more. Since Kali had asked him to help write the work for it, he already knew the choreography and it was easier to give it to him than take extra time to teach it to someone else, especially with a competition coming up this weekend. So why Lisa was so irritated that Castiel got it, he can’t say. He’s always been polite to her.

But that’s what happened to lead to why Castiel’s standing on the fifty yard line with Dean while Crowley’s addressing another section of the band.

“C’mon, just let me wave one around.”

Castiel looks to Dean. “You’re already on thin ice with Kali. If she sees you handling guard equipment, not only will she be displeased with me, but she’ll have your head.”

“You think I’m scared of her? I’ve been testing her patience since I was a freshman.”

“The answer is still no.”

Dean sighs dramatically and goes back to twirling a stick around his fingers. Castiel mindlessly plays with his [swing flags](https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bzk3Eg2iZ1U/VGUggsGNcvI/AAAAAAAACj8/GfZHkBbaUOA/s1600/swing.jpg), trying out different wrist work to waste time.

“So you like those flags better? The shorter ones?”

The question makes Castiel pause and finds that Dean’s eyes are on him, causing his heart to stutter.

He shrugs lightly, holding both flags out at his side so the black silk catches in the light breeze. “Swing flags are beautiful, but I wouldn’t say I prefer them to a regular, six foot pole. While using two swing flags allow for some intricate wrist work, I find they’re limited compared to what can be done with a regular flag or a rifle. But these give the impression of angel wings so the audience can better understand the story – whatever it’s supposed to be.”

Dean nods slowly but doesn’t say anything more. Castiel can’t help but feel like there’s some sort of unspoken tension between them due to his being here instead of Lisa. He’s taken off guard when, seemingly out of nowhere, Dean chuckles to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Castiel asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s just that,” Dean laughs again, shaking his head, “Who would’ve ever thought you’d be the angel pulling my ass from Hell in Chuck’s weird ass story?”

Castiel grins. “At least we can tolerate each other now.”

That’s an understatement. He and Dean have both actually become quite close as friends. Ever since they exchanged numbers, they text all the time and hang out just about every weekend, even if there are no football games or competitions. Dean’s become the person Castiel looks forward to seeing every day.

“Speak for yourself, Flag Boy,” Dean scoffs with a mischievous glitter to his eyes.

Castiel’s about to roll his eyes but thinks of a better comeback. He steps well into Dean’s space, holding his eye contact steadily, ignoring the way Dean’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“You should show me some respect. I’m the one who’s going to drag you out of Hell. I can very well leave you there,” he murmurs in a low voice only loud enough for Dean to hear. Dean licks his lips and for a moment, Castiel thinks he sees Dean’s eyes flicker downwards. Suddenly, he’s too aware of how close he is to Dean. Why did think this would be a good idea again? He meant to play off of Dean’s angel comment as a joke, but neither one of them are laughing and there’s a low heat beginning to coil in Castiel’s stomach.

When Crowley calls for everyone to get to attention and start the movement from the beginning, Castiel gratefully dashes back to the sideline where he waits until his entrance. His heart is beating faster than usual as he performs the choreography, even though the music has an adagio tempo. Castiel never takes his eyes off Dean’s kneeled figure on the fifty yard line as he slinks his way through the band, who pretend to lash out at him as if they were demons trying to fight him off before he gracefully dances out of their reach. The music is coming to a swell by the time Castiel finds his place in front of Dean, and then their eyes meet. Castiel has to drag his gaze away, nearly missing the next step off into the rest of the choreography.

By the end of the movement, with the final chords of the front ensemble ringing out across the silent field, Dean has risen to his feet with Castiel in front of him. Black silk flows around them as the flags slowly lower from the raised position above his head. Out of the corner of Castiel’s eye, he can see the band encircled around them in their last set of the movement, watching them; waiting for Dean’s taps that cue the start of the fourth movement. But instead of looking over Castiel’s shoulder at the drum majors, Dean’s eyes are on Castiel. They hold each other’s gaze until Crowley’s voice booms over the megaphone.

“Alright, back to set one! We’ll do one run through before taking a ten minute break. Don’t disappoint me.”

Dean’s lips twitch upwards. “Not bad, angel,” he murmurs before starting across the field towards his dot.

Castiel releases a long breath before mumbling out a “Thanks”, even though Dean’s already out of earshot. Dread settles in Castiel’s stomach as he jogs around the field to reset his flags and rifle in their proper places. When he finds his place at the back sideline and kneels, he spares a look at the darkening sunset. The oranges and golden yellows transforming into deep hues that will soon reveal the stars.

That’s when it becomes evident to him. The one he’d been wondering about for a while now. The little tickle in his stomach that’s grown into something he can’t excuse or deny anymore.

He likes Dean. More than the depth of their friendship.

Innumerable thoughts, countless moments, they all wash into Castiel’s mind, filling it with Dean’s smile and their playful banter, the caring goodnight text messages and the ‘ _Mornin’ sunshine_ ’s. Every single little thing that either leaves Castiel smiling or ache with… _something_.

Castiel takes a deep breath and sweeps it all away for later. He can’t think about how he felt like Dean was his gravitational pull just now. He can’t think about how the guy he loathed several months ago is the same guy that leaves his heart fluttering now and fills some sort of emptiness in him. He can’t think about how he missed his chance. How he heard Dean say he’s not interested. Twice. How there are countless of other people, like Lisa, who are capable of capturing Dean’s attention. How this is exactly the reason he hasn’t wanted to admit it to himself.

He just can’t think about any of that.

Tearing his gaze away from the looming clouds above, Castiel sets his eyes on Michael, watching for the silent count off enunciated by his baton. For now, numbers are all Castiel will allow himself to think.

Five. Six. Five, six, seven, eight.

One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's gonna be one more part of this :)  
> [My Tumblr](http://blissfulcastiel.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a marching band au for so long now! It used to be my entire life and it was fun to reminisce :') Stay tuned for a part two because I just had to complete the story, lol  
> [My Tumblr](http://blissfulcastiel.tumblr.com)


End file.
